


simulacrum

by NekoAisu



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (but only when it comes to ardyn), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Automaton, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Automaton Prompto Argentum, Courtship, Developing Friendships, Dubious Morality, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Spells & Enchantments, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/NekoAisu
Summary: The soothing outside of the shop can’t even begin to compare to the cozy interior. The dark wood floor is worn beyond smooth, walls a light and soothing blue wherever they aren’t covered with framed blueprints and diagrams dating back over fifty decades. With the number of automatons wandering around─brass pill bugs rolling down the entryway and around the corner, copper frogs perching on lamps same as aluminum butterflies─Noctis expects the shop owner to be some sort of wizened old person.The person who comes rushing around the corner is nothing like all the inventors he’d seen before.Iris just greets them with a cheerful, “Heya, Prompto! I’m back with Cumin for that check up you suggested.” She carefully scoops her cat from her bag and pets its head like it’s made of real fur and fury rather than metal and magic. She tacks on, “I brought company, too! Noct ‘s a little asocial, so don’t mind him.”Noctis, true to brand, has not said a thing. He’s too busy trying to figure out how in Ifrit’s fresh hell the mechanic is that handsome. If it’s not his gem-bright blonde hair, it’s his eyes, or the little smear of grease along his jaw that manage to create an ever more endearing image.





	simulacrum

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Ronnie & all my lovely friends in the FFXV Writers discord for helping me plan and get this done!! You're all too good to me <3

At twenty years old, Noctis Lucis Caelum is fairly sure he’s missing out on young adult life. He’s not particularly frustrated over it, preferring the comfort of the Citadel and the familiar faces therein, but it still chafes a little whenever he’s reminded of how easily others can come and go from the grounds.

 

Being the heir to the Lucian throne is alright, he supposes. There are no scandals he’ll have to clean up before his coronation in a year and his father doesn’t seem too worried about Noctis’s shut-in tendencies. Who _does_ worry is the Lady Iris of Amicitia House.

 

“You _have_ to come with me, Noct,” she orders over tea on a particularly bright spring afternoon. “I _promise_ you won’t be disappointed. If you are, then I’ll order a whole catalog’s worth of new tackle for you!” She’s gone through a whole platter of finger sandwiches and starts on the tower of tiny cakes they have set out.

 

Noctis shoots her brother a desperate look, but Gladiolus just sips at his tea and keeps his eyes on the newest installation of lauded author Julian Rimine’s attempt at high fantasy. He clears his throat and picks at his cake, shoving frosting around his plate instead of eating it. “I’m _fine,_ Iris.”

 

She stares him down, one brow raised in disbelief. Her voice is terrifyingly steady when she says, “Well, I guess it’s settled, then. You’re fine enough to accompany me for a repair visit this Sunday.”

 

“That’s three days away,” he points out, “and I’m sure whatever friend recommended you go to Argentum’s would love to accompany you.”

 

“No-pe,” Iris objects, popping the P. “You’re my date and that’s _final.”_ She shoves a whole choux à la crème in her mouth in one go as if it ends the conversation before patting her lap. Her cat and it’s newest adoptee both jump up and cozy themselves on her skirt with a chorus of purrs.

 

Noctis peers over at the metallic kitten like it’s somehow the cause of all his problems. It blinks at him with gold resin cast eyes and yawns, porcelain teeth flashing bright under the sun. He supposes the worst that can come out of the visit is Iris simply chattering his and the mechanic’s ears off about the newest lines of AutoCouture from Highwind Atelier. Best case scenario being he ends up knowing the place to order holiday gifts from. He just hopes the visit passes faster than Iris’s usual shopping trips do.

 

Friday passes in a blur of council meetings and audiences, Ignis and his House’s automatons assisting him in gathering documents for a trial he’s set to preside over, and Saturday feels nearly like a dream when he wakes up late in his self-made blanket nest. He rolls out from his cocoon of warmth somewhere after two p.m. and scrubs a hand through his hair. It’s rare to have a free day, much less a free weekend, and all the extra time sets his mind on tomorrow's plans.

 

They aren’t travelling _too_ far from the Citadel. Argentum’s is near the immigrant district, somewhere around a twenty minute drive to the west plaza, and up-to-date enough that the reviews online for the shop stress that it’s “more an experience than an appointment.” Noctis isn't quite sure what that’s supposed to mean.

 

The photos posted of the storefront are charming, classic carbon brick from King Mors’s time worn smooth and half muraled over. The front entry is surrounded by metal and organic plants alike, twisting green vines and wrought copper ranunculus blossoms twining together under the sun. The door is just as old as the building itself, visually speaking, a solid slab of wood with a well worn handle Noctis worries would heat to burning during summer if not for the small canopy at the doorfront. It looks cozy enough to appease a hissing corner of his mind that still remembers his visit to Izunia Atelier in the south end some noble had thought would made a reasonable enough gift for his coming of age celebration. That had been a trial in and of itself to get through with the shop’s owner foisting “upgrades” at him like he’d somehow grow a need for a metal assistant to look sexy, or be frustratingly demure.

 

Noctis stares pointedly at his closet with half a sigh slipping past his lips. If he was going to be accompanying (read: dragged along by) Iris, there’s no way she’d ever allow him out of his room in anything monochrome. Gladiolus never seems to mind when his sister is on a fashion-related bend, wearing all her creations and coordinations with pride, but Noctis is not so unfalteringly flexible. He much prefers the consistent comforts of Lucian Black and any shades near it, rather than the bright palette of reds Iris seems to live in when she’s not mixing patterns like no tomorrow.

 

He flips through sweater after jacket after tee shirt until he’s found one of the few pieces that isn’t black. He grabs a pair of patterned socks in hopes that, combined with the white sweater, Iris won’t make him wear fifteen other accessories with it even if the rest of the ensemble is just like his usual.

 

He spends the next couple hours lounging around and playing the event dungeons on King’s Knight he’d missed during the week. Even the heir to a sprawling kingdom needs downtime, even if it’s only in observance of religious holidays he’s pretty sure are made up just to have more days off. By the time he’s run through just about every available stage, it’s far past time for lunch and around an hour too early for dinner. He rifles through his old comics as a distraction until Ignis knocks at his door.

 

Dinner is always an affair, the Houses Amicitia and Caelum long since dragged the Scientias into their particular flavor of chaos. Noctis isn’t sure he’s ever seen his father laugh harder than then Clarus had to tell a six year old Iris that _no, craft glitter is not edible and you cannot put it on your broccoli._ Over the years, things haven’t calmed in the slightest. By the time they’re all served dessert, Noctis is pretty sure that the Countess Scientia is suing a sentient pile of goo for property damages. Even during the trek back to his room, he’s still not quite convinced she was joking about taking a flan to court over the wreck it turned her country home’s porch to.

 

After a brisk shower and some fresh pajamas, Noctis gets back into bed. He surfs the web, flicks through things on social media and frowns at the direction the public’s opinion on automaton care seems to be going. Yeah, they’re essentially just human-shaped hunks of machinery, but they’re pretty damn smart when they’re programmed to learn instead of imitate. He flicks the app closed and turns off his screen, rolling over and feeling the slightest of twinges from his back. The last coherent thought he manages before falling asleep is how he hopes it won’t get much worse by morning.

  


Sunday dawns bright and caustically loud, Iris and Gladiolus teaming up to shove him out of bed and into clothes sometime before noon (to which Noctis jokingly threatens to have them exiled for treason) like the fate of Eos depends on his readiness for a day on the town. Iris roots through his bags until she finds the only one with a pattern─gold embossed leather still smelling the same as the day he’d been gifted it─and loops it over his torso with glee. “I see you took my suggestion of a little variety, huh, Noct?”

 

He shrugs, dumping his phone and wallet into the main compartment of the bag. “Ready to go?”

 

“Hell yeah I am,” Iris replies, linking her arm in his while Gladiolus opens the door for them. “Got my wallet and everything.” She leads them down to the garage, waiting for Gladiolus to unlock his car before plopping down in the back with Noctis. “To Argentum’s, dearest brother of mine!”

 

“Alright, ‘Ris. Everyone buckled?” Gladiolus starts the car and flips the radio to some classical station they all enjoy, waiting until both passengers give him some form of affirmative. The moment they’re on Insomnia’s streets, Iris is nearly vibrating in excitement. Gladiolus laughs when her automaton cat pops its paws from her bag to bat at her fingers.

 

The fifteen minute drive passes in the blink of an eye.

 

Iris doesn’t even wait for Gladiolus to engage park before throwing herself from the car and skipping down the plaza. Noctis trails behind her with a hand gripping the strap of his bag. He knows it’s supposed to be a short visit and that he can call at any time to get a ride back early if his back acts up, but he’s still apprehensive. Thundara is a decently known place for weekend hangouts, but it’s mostly known for the clusters of authentic food stalls and cheap retailers rather than any sort of automaton-related buzz. It’s not a great place for something like an independent inventor to set up shop.

 

When Noctis catches up with Iris, she’s beaming from ear to ear. The storefront looks nearly the same as the pictures online, minus the window displays definitely having been rotated since and the new sign that proclaims _“Walk-Ins Welcome!”_ in sloping script. The flowers are still untarnished and lively to the point Noctis is pretty sure someone just painted a whole bush instead of sculpting them petal by petal. Iris opens the door after snapping a quick picture of the flowers and uploading it to Kweh.

 

The soothing outside of the shop can’t even begin to compare to the cozy interior. The dark wood floor is worn beyond smooth, walls a light and soothing blue wherever they aren’t covered with framed blueprints and diagrams dating back over fifty decades. With the number of automatons wandering around─brass pill bugs rolling down the entryway and around the corner, copper frogs perching on lamps same as aluminum butterflies─Noctis expects the shop owner to be some sort of wizened old person.

 

The person who comes rushing around the corner is nothing like all the inventors he’d seen before.

 

Iris just greets them with a cheerful, “Heya, Prompto! I’m back with Cumin for that check up you suggested.” She carefully scoops her cat from her bag and pets its head like it’s made of real fur and fury rather than metal and magic. She tacks on, “I brought company, too! Noct ‘s a little asocial, so don’t mind him.”

 

Noctis, true to brand, has not said a thing. He’s too busy trying to figure out how in Ifrit’s fresh hell the mechanic is that handsome. If it’s not his gem-bright blonde hair, it’s his eyes, or the little smear of grease along his jaw that manage to create an ever more endearing image.

 

Prompto turns to him and waves, voice near perfectly modulated to be as assuasive as possible when he offers, “Tea while you wait?”

 

And Noctis is hit by the realization that _oh─_ Prompto is an automaton, too. It’s obvious in the seam where his head connects to his neck, how his features are all painted on and textured like an imitation of humanity.

 

When Iris reminds him not to forget about the kettle, this time, and he smiles in such a sheepish way it’s startling, Noctis figures he’ll at least be decent enough company.

 

Three hours later with a significantly lighter wallet and much heavier bag, he’s pretty sure Prompto isn’t just a pile of parts. There’s no way someone could be that altruistic even with programming and magic dictating every aspect of their personality. Prompto sees them out with a call of, “Come again!”

 

Noctis knows he will.

**Author's Note:**

> Iris's cat's name (Cumin) means fidelity! I figured it would go decently well with the Amicitia naming conventions as they are in canon. 
> 
> Kudos, comments, and concrit are all more than welcome!!
> 
> Yell with me on:  
> tumblr ─ kiriami-sama  
> twitter ─ FlamingAceKiri
> 
> Like what I do? Check out either of my social media to find links to my ko-fi!


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